Rocking out in Ryan Interlande’s basement, Cold Harvest Band, a group of dads who gather each week with the intention of bringing back classic rock to Franklin County, begins its rehearsal.
Interlande, dressed in a loose shirt, jeans and crisp Adidas sneakers, stands with a Dr. Pepper in hand, belting classic rock b-sides before his wife returns home. His band mates play over the continuous barks of Interlande’s chihuahua and mini pincher, Peanut and Penny.
One of his buddies reminisces a bit, complaining about having to carry his snare drum up Montague Road.
“(That was) fifth grade,” Interlande, lead singer of the band, says.
“Fifth grade? It was third grade!” Brent Hale disagrees.
“I can’t remember,” the 41-year-old Interlande replies.
Lead guitarist Matt Foster offers his own interpretation, “We’re all old.”
The band rehearses in a room in Interlande’s basement, attached to the garage of the corner house on Dell Street in Turners Falls, where the group’s banner, “COLD HARVEST BAND,” hangs behind the drum set, along with Red Sox and Patriots paraphernalia decking the wooden walls.
In coming weeks, the band has a couple of shows. On May 20, Cold Harvest will play at St. Kaziemerz Society, 197 Avenue A in Turners Falls, and on June 17, the band will play at Pioneer Tavern, Route 63 in Millers Falls.
Cold Harvest Band, which plays everything from Pearl Jam to Lenny Kravitz to the Stone Temple Pilots, is highlighted by its energetic lead singer.
You wouldn’t know that in May 2016, Interlande had a heart transplant after six years of battling an irregular heartbeat and cardiomyopathy. His ordeal had put the band on hiatus as he fought for his life and struggled through recovery.
Just before the surgery, the band had interviewed for a bass player — its missing piece. It was a tricky situation for Interlande though, trying to get someone to sign up for a band with its lead singer in the middle of such a tremendous fight.
Interlande says the then- prospective bass player came to his house to audition, not knowing a single person in the band. He says it must have been a little anxiety provoking, because the first person he met was Interlande, who had his battery-powered heart strapped to his body.
Interlande says the bass player must have been thinking, “What am I getting into? I want to play rock ’n’ roll music. I don’t want to change this guy’s batteries.”
“It showed (Interlande’s) level of commitment,” Justin Schotanus says. He said Interlande’s attitude seemed to be,“I’m going to die doing this.”
Schotanus was the first guy they interviewed for the spot and he turned out to be more than an ideal fit.
“My father-in-law had a heart transplant, too,” Schotanus says, so he knew what was to come, and was ready to join the band and stay on board after Interlande’s surgery.
With Schotanus in the band, Cold Harvest had what its members had always wanted — a bass player to help them transition from acoustic to rock.
By day, Interlande spends time as an ambassador for the New England Organ Bank; Hale is a graphic designer and photographer at Deerfield Academy; Foster is the head custodian at Shutesbury Elementary; and Schotanus is a crew chief for a local construction company.
By night, they become Cold Harvest Band in Interlande’s quasi-garage, quasi-basement, mini-club space — or wherever they happen to be playing.
“We’re all dads. We all work,” Foster says. “We try to get one gig a month.”
When Cold Harvest Band played its first show after Interlande recovered from surgery, the guys put their lead singer to challenge with a three-hour show this past February.
“It’s a lot harder to pull off three hours than people think,” Foster says. “I don’t know how Springsteen can pull off four hours at
60-something.”
It’s important to every member of Cold Harvest to produce the best possible music, especially since they only have one rehearsal a week.
At this point in their music careers, they find solace in finding the groove on a particular song more than when they were kids and enjoyed the “cool” value in being a musician.
A mix of people show up to their shows. “Twenty-one to 60,” the lead guitarist offers.
In a lot of ways, they’re still in an early stage of finding their groove, but, it may not be the music of their kids.
“My 13-year-old son was there once and he was like, putting his fingers in his ears,” Foster says.
Where the band shines is their desire to play the tracks people don’t normally hear — they call it the “b-side.”
“Our premise was to be a rock cover band, but not to do the same things everyone else does,” Interlande says.
“You guys like Tom Petty? We’ll do a bunch of songs you never heard,” Foster says.
“We actually did that … it was a learning step,” Interlande says.
The group finds their place by providing music that’s not played any longer. They remembered when they were kids and there were plenty of venues to go to shows in the county. And, they remembered Northampton as the “next Seattle.”
“There’s no rock ’n’ roll bands anymore,” Foster says. “’Oh we’re metal, we’re alternative …’”
“Now we can’t find it so we’re bringing it back,” Hale says.
During the recent practice, Schotanus lets the guys know it’s the 19th anniversary of when he met his wife. The group of husbands joked with him, wondering if he remembered that on his own.
“We’ll try to get you home at a decent time,” Interlande says.
“Actually gotta pick up my daughter at 8,” Schotanus says.
The band continues to practice, working out what elements of the songs they were working on before Schotanus’ announcement. One version has a bagpipe, but they quickly scratch that.
At the end of one song, Hale shakes his hand and the guys look at their drummer.
“Wedding ring gets me every time,” Hale joked.
During practice, Foster, who’s the group’s music history guru, tends to take some time to sit in the comfy chair facing the band — in a space that would make for a great venue for a small show. He will tell stories to a group who’s up to hear him talk for days.
This Wednesday evening proved no different. Foster sat in his chair, leaned back and offered up why he still plays music.
“There’s enough shit going on in the world,” he said. “Make people forget about it for a while.”
Interlande nodded and softly added, “Music is therapy.”
The guys nodded and got back to jamming out in the basement before Interlande’s wife came home.